Some see God; for others, enlightenment is a blinding, beatific flash
of light. Me, I meditated on the grey steel nose of a warship. Late
one night, I peeked over my bed sheets and there it was, my very own
vision spectacular, ridiculous, an illusion of danger, a dance of life
on the very nose of death, indisputably a nonviolent action in the classic
sense. To hold on to the nose of a warship and surf a great, grey wave
up the harbour was the ultimate statement; Aussie surfboard diplomacy…

In 1986, Sydney was the major venue for the Australian Navy’s
75th anniversary. This included the arrival of the largest international
assembly of allied vessels in a foreign port since World War II…

The first ships entered the harbour to be greeted by a large banner
on North Head reading: “NO DEATH SHIPS!” As the warships
convoyed in, our boats announced over the megaphones the arrival of
these nuclear-capable ships. Motorised vessels played cat and mouse
with the ships…

Relying on well-developed tactics of our own, Gerry Smith drove the
zodiac a distance away from the main fleet but manoeuvred directly in
front of the approaching ships. For a few nervous moments we sheltered
beside Fort Denison, Sydney’s historic fortified island, the nearest
thing to hiding in the bush out in the middle of the harbour. With a
nod and a wise smile from Gerry, our forever calm pilot, we skimmed
down the harbour straight at the oncoming destroyer, the USS Oldendorf.
When we were about 50 metres in front of the warship we stopped dead
in the water. I jumped off. Gerry executed a quick U-turn and disappeared
before the police realised what was afoot.

I paddled for the ship. An armada of small support boats in front of
it was bearing straight down upon me. The boats could not break ranks
for fear of collision, and if they stopped they were in danger of being
hit from behind by the warship. I paddled my way through the lines until
nothing separated me from the warship. I turned and paddled hard. In
the choppy conditions it was imperative that I had momentum at the point
of contact. I grabbed hold just as the ship appeared in my vision from
behind. As I strained, the nose of the ship began to propel me along.

The hardest part over, I was positioned for the ride of my life up Sydney
Harbour. I waved to police and protest craft alike, smiling from ear
to ear. That is, until I sighted a boat ten metres in front. On board
were cameramen with monstrously large lenses pointing at me. I pulled
an excruciatingly intense face; after all, nuclear warships were no
joking matter.